After Everything
by TahimikBabae
Summary: Even bad guys deserve a "Happily Ever After." ONESHOT.


The sudden sound of a baby's cry instantly woke up the sleeping man buried beneath the thick, warm, blue comforter. Without opening his eyes or unearthing himself, he rolled over on the king-sized bed, but all his arm was met with was the cold, empty expanse of more mattress and sheets. He released a groan before folding down the covers

Draco Malfoy looked around the master bedroom and squinted his eyes when he realized that it was already morning. His eyes landed upon the pillow on the empty side of the bed and there laid a note with familiar writing. He grabbed it and blinked the sleep out of his eyes to read what was written.

_Draco,_

_The owl arrived with the bicorn horn and the box is on the dining room table. Complete the potion and give Devon another dose. I'll be back by lunch. Good luck!_

It wasn't the first time Draco had been left alone to watch over Devon, his eighteen-month-old son. His wife had gone back to work at St. Mungo's a few months after giving birth, and he had gotten plenty of experience taking care of the baby boy. Although she mainly worked during the daytime on weekdays, she was sometimes called in on her days off or asked to stay longer when she should have been clocked out already. What was different about this time, though, was that this was the first time he had been left alone while their son was sick, not that he got sick often. Draco had gotten the bug at the office a few days back and sadly his son had caught it.

Healing was his wife's area of expertise. He was a member of the Law Enforcement Squad, for Merlin's sake, but the silly minx thought that it would be a wonderful learning experience for him to take on. Sure, he was a natural when it came to brewing potions, and he knew how to cast simple healing charms, but it was different when the sick and hurting patient was your own son.

The continued cries of Devon reminded him that his son was indeed calling for him, so Draco rolled out of bed clad in a blue cotton shirt and plaid pajama pants. He grumbled the whole way down the hall about his ridiculous wife being out, most likely shopping, leaving him to take care of their son while he too was still recovering from his own sickness. Once he opened the door to his son's room, the loud sobs immediately pierced his head and a pounding ache began between his eyes. He approached the mahogany wood crib and saw the heartrending sight of his ailing son.

Devon Scorpius Malfoy looked up at his father with a pitiful and angry frown, accusing his father for taking his sweet time. Snot was dipping from his cute, little, button nose, his silver eyes were wide and shining with tears, and saliva was spilling from his lips because he was forced to breathe through his mouth due to his stuffed nose. Not matter how miserable his son looked, Draco still thought of him as the cutest baby that anyone was _ever_ going to see.

He didn't tell this to anyone, but he was glad Devon wasn't a carbon copy of himself as he had been to his father. He had been lucky enough to gain the perfect set of genes, thus was a beautiful mixture of both his parents. He had wavy blonde hair that was several shades darker than his father's, his mother's fair skin complexion, and his father's eyes and nose.

"Mama?"

A brief bout of jealousy swept through him at his son's request, but it was quickly replaced with guilt as he said, "It's just me, little man."

Devon's bottom lip began to tremble and panic appeared in his eyes, and Draco quickly picked him up to console him. The foul odor coming from his son's nappy immediately alerted him that the baby was in serious need of a diaper change. He walked over to the changing table and laid the baby down upon it. After eighteen months, he considered himself a professional diaper changer and he was now, for the most part, immune to all of the smells and bodily fluids that came from his son. He was no longer as squeamish and pretentious as he had once used to be as a youth.

Devon's cries only became louder and louder as Draco stripped him of the soiled romper he was wearing, cleaned his face and body with a warm, moistened washcloth, and changed his diaper to a clean one. He made quick work of pulling a new romper on and cast a swift _Tergeo_ upon his hands before gently taking his inconsolable son back into his arms.

He walked up the stairs to the third floor of the English countryside cottage and entered his and his wife's personal potion's laboratory. He cast a Bubble Head Charm on his son so he wouldn't be exposed to fumes of the room before rushing toward a cauldron of incompletely made Pepper Up Potion. He lit the fire beneath the cauldron and let it reheat while he summoned a vial of bicorn horn from the dining room table his wife had written to him about. Once the vial flew into his hand, he poured the contents and stirred until the potion turned red. He put out the fire, ladled some of the potion into a beaker, and magically put the rest of the potion into individual vials – corked, labeled, and dated. He opened one of the drawers and pocketed one of the many glass syringes before walking out of the laboratory.

Draco got rid of the charm he put on his son, who had earlier quieted down to sniffles because he had been distracted by the potion making. He began making his way down to the ground floor of the house and said, "Let's go warm up a bottle for you, yeah?"

"No."

He looked down into the wide, watery eyes of the boy, "Daddy's going to read Devon a book while we wait for Mummy to come home. Would you like that?"

"No."

He rolled his eyes at his son's new favorite word. He cursed the day he learned it because it quickly became his answer to everything. He blamed his wife because she was the stubborn one, but she claims Devon got it from him because he was more stubborn than she was. He walked through the arch that lead into the kitchen, and put the beaker of potion onto the counter top to let it cool. He was just about to put his son into his highchair, but...

"NO!"

He felt his son's arms tighten around his neck and Devon's loud cries returned. Draco stopped all his actions and comfortingly rubbed the baby's back. He calmly took in a couple deep breaths to war away the increasing headache. Despite being out of the weather, Draco still had to go to work to write up a few reports before he took off a week vacation for Christmas and New Years. His congested nose and sore throat kept him from getting a comfortable night of sleep. This was supposed to be his day off to relax and catch up on his rest, but his infuriating wife thought it was a brilliant day to do some last minute Christmas shopping. But, he wasn't going to allow his fatigue and frustrations get the best of him, thus releasing his anger on his son. He wasn't his father.

Draco smoothed away the wavy stands of blonde away from his son's face and was bothered by how warm his forehead felt. He needed to act quicker. He shifted the now softly whimpering baby to his left hip, so that he could grab his wand to make a bottle of warm milk.

After preparing the bottle, he pulled out the glass syringe from his pocket, sterilized it, and pulled up exactly 5 milliliters of the now cool, clear, red liquid from the beaker. He walked out of the kitchen and entered the living room. He cast a spell to light the fireplace and sat down heavily upon one of the two couches within the room. He maneuvered his son, who instantly began wailing again, into a sitting position and gently stuck the syringe into the side of his son's open mouth.

His son swallowed the liquid without choking and scrunched his face at the new taste in his mouth. A bottle was quickly put into his mouth, and the baby began whimpering and drinking at the same time. However, all too suddenly Devon spit out the nipple and began yelling when steam started coming out of his ears.

Draco stood up and tried every single calming technique his wife had made him read about, but his son's cries continued with a vengeance. He was successful enough to get the bottle back into the baby's mouth, which greatly lowered the volume.

Once the bottle was finished, Devon kept rubbing his face and ears onto his father's shoulder to make the discomfort go away. Even though the steam was still coming out, his struggles lessened by the second because he was too exhausted from his earlier expenditure of energy to keep on crying and fussing. He continued to whimper and sniffle through his half-asleep phase, but his father's gentle circles on his back lulled him deeper into unconsciousness.

After remaining standing for a couple hours or so, he walked back to the couch and laid down upon it after the steaming stopped. Both Draco's shirts and Devon's new romper were soaked from the steam, so Draco vanished them to the upstairs hamper. Devon released a soft whimper at the movement, but quieted back down as he laid on his father's bare chest. Skin to skin contact always calmed him down, and Draco was just glad he now could relax as well. He closed his eyes as he continued to rub his son's back, but it wasn't long until he too entered the land of slumber.

It didn't feel all that long until Draco was pulled back into the world of the conscious by the feel of someone running their fingers through his hair. A sweet kiss that kept him wanting more made him open his eyes and looked up at the smiling face of his beautiful wife of three years.

If this were a couple of years back, even he wouldn't believe that the woman kneeling beside the couch was _the_ Hermione Granger. Yet, there sitting on the balls of her feet was the know-it-all herself – with her wild brown curls and loving brown eyes – and, yes, according to the wedding band on her left ring finger that matched the platinum band upon his own left ring finger, she was his wife. Now how did that happen? He never would have believed this picture he was seeing in this living room if he were another former Hogwarts student who knew the type of relationship they had during school.

However, anyone who had eyes could see why _the _Draco Malfoy had ended up marrying the brains of the Golden Trio. To his eyes, Hermione was a goddess here on earth. Not only was she ridiculously smart, she was beautiful inside and out. Soft, flowing, brown curls that fell past her shoulder, which he could run his fingers through. Mesmerizing brown eyes that shined with knowledge, mischief, and love every time he looked down at her. Smooth, shapely, feminine curves that never failed to make his blood boil. Finally, plush, pink lips that he could spend hours upon hours kissing. She was a far cry from the scrawny mouse of a girl he had seen all those years ago when they first entered Hogwarts. He saw how others looked at his wife in envy or lust, but for some mental lapse in judgment she decided to be his.

And they called her one of the brightest witches to come out of Hogwarts... Ha!

"So, how did it go?" Hermione whispered as she tilted her head and raised a brow of interest.

Draco lifted his head a bit to look at the still sleeping baby on his chest and replied, "It could have been worst."

Hermione reached out to smooth their son's curls, "He's not as warm as he was before I left. I've got to say, I'm impressed."

"You don't give me enough credit, Granger." He shifted to get up from the couch while making sure not to wake up Devon, "I've had months of practice for this one day."

She rolled her eyes, but followed him out of the living room and up the stairs to lay the baby in his crib.

Many accused him of debauchery when word of their romantic relationship reached the ears of the rest of the magical community. No one believed that the Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and only heir to the purest wizard family, had any good intentions in seeing the Wizard World's sweetheart. Almost every person thought he had either cast anImperius Curse or spiked her drink with Amortentia.

Everything happened so quickly and the next thing he knew was they fell in love. As simple as that. He knew he didn't deserved her. She was just too good for him, and he questioned everyday what a woman like her was doing with a man so screwed up and jaded as him. Many didn't believe he was a changed man. He hardly believed it himself. He sometimes woke up thinking he was in the body of somebody else.

To those who knew him at school, they would all say that he had made a complete turnaround from that schoolyard bully. Growing up, he didn't know the meaning of family, caring, and love, and yet he had been blessed with a series of events that lead him to the situation that he was in right now. He, like everyone else that participated or lived through the War, had been effected by the events that had occurred, as well as from the subsequent occurrences that happened after.

"Are you hungry? I can make us some sandwiches."

Draco looked down at his wife after putting Devon in his crib. She was standing right next to him. The top of her head just barely reached the tip of his nose, so she had to look up at him with her questioning eyes. "Well, you might as well do some wifely duties since you abandoned your child to go shopping."

"Keep talking like that, and you can starve for all I care."

He smirked as he followed her out the room and back down the stairs.

"Put a shirt on, Malfoy. You're just going to get sick again," she said without turning around.

"You know you love when I walk around without one on," he spun her to him once they were both on the ground floor. "You know how I feel about not waking up next to you in the morning."

He closed the gap between them and his lips found it's home upon hers.

Draco hadn't always been that proud, arrogant, blood-biased bully that everyone knew in Hogwarts. He hadn't been raised by his parents when he was growing up. Quite frankly, he hardly ever saw them. His father was always away conducting unseen illegal acts to gain fear, power, and money, and his mother was off following her husband like a lost puppy.

Yes, that was the unfortunate situation that he had been borne from. Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black were two people who never should have been given the right to procreate. Neither one of them paid any interest in him because he had only been conceived to serve as an heir to the Malfoy lineage. Lucius didn't have one single caring bone in his body, but that's okay because Narcissa had enough love for the two of them. She practically worshiped the very ground he walked on and was jealous of absolutely everyone who vied for his attention, especially her very own son.

Despite not having his parents present while growing up, Draco had a pleasant childhood. It wasn't as dark and dreary as many believed it to be. He was raised by a combination of his governess, an army of house elves, many pureblood tutors, and the watchful eyes of his godfather, Severus Snape. Behind the scenes, he had been spoiled rotten by his absentee parents and received material things almost every week. Even then, he was smart enough to know it was all compensation for the rare glimpses he caught of Lucius and Narcissa throughout the year.

Draco was disappointed when the soft lips moved away from his and looked down at Hermione.

She pushed a grey shirt to his chest, which she had summoned behind his back, literally. "We better eat before Devon wakes up. When he does, we can start decorating the inside of the house for next week."

"Uh... Christmas."

"Yes, Christmas!" She started walking to the kitchen, as she said, "My parents are arriving the day before Christmas Eve, and I want the tree up and presents wrapped before-"

Draco listened with half an ear as his wife continued talking. She always got crazy around the holiday season, and insisted that they do everything without magic. If it were not for the fact that he loved the silly bint, he wouldn't even bother. He knew she loved this time of the year. So every year, he'd humor her and she appreciated it.

"You did remember to send an invitation to Blaise and Vivi, right?"

"Yes, dear."

"Good, because-"

It wasn't until he went to Hogwarts that he really felt the absence of his parents. He received the lavish presents and huge "care" packages through the post, but he never got the loving letters written by either one of his parents that made him homesick like many of his classmates. His feelings of inadequacy evolved into envy and jealousy, but quickly morphed into anger once the holiday season came around.

There he was, an eleven-year-old boy, knowing that he was one of the few children in Hogwarts that never received the love of his parents, and come winter break he was going home to a enormous, cold, and – for the most part – empty Manor. Many knew that the Malfoy name equated to a life of luxury, so he never wanted anyone to find out that he didn't have something that most children grew up with. That was when the Draco Malfoy that everyone knew bloomed.

He began writing to his parents, but mostly his father, to tell them what was happening at school. He told them about his grades, the people he hung out with, and the types of things he did onto students who weren't of pure breeding. He did everything he could just to get a reaction from them, but nothing ever seemed good enough. That just harbored more feelings of cruel animosity and bitterness.

He was hardly ever a nice person, and he never pretended to be one. Sure, he had his days where the pre-Slytherin boy would appear and no one could do any wrong by his standards despite how stupid he may have found their actions. However, for the most part, he was cold, calculating, callous, and liked – much less loved – by few...

"Are you listening to me, Draco?"

"Huh?" Draco looked around and he had somehow made it into the kitchen. He was sitting in the little breakfast nook they had off to the side, too! He saw the worried look on his wife's face as she walked up to him. He then closed his eyes as she began running her hands along his forehead and the sides of his face and neck.

"You're not getting sick again are you?"

"No, just tired." He pulled her onto his lap, "It was a long morning."

Hermione circled her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you better be."

She began kissing a trail from the crook of his neck to his ear and whispered, "How can I make it up to you?"

As much as he was enjoying her light pecks, other appetites needed attending to. "Feed me, woman!"

She pulled back a bit to look at him incredulously, which just made him smirk. She rolled her eyes and got up from his lap. He watched her move around the kitchen with ease and grace. He would never tire of watching her.

He had done some horrible things when he was younger, and he was doing everything in his power to repent for all those sins. He must have been doing something right to have a beautiful wife and son. He was so afraid that any second now, he was going to wake up and have this life all be a dream. Someone like him should never have something this perfect.


End file.
